


each side is a loser (so who cares who fired the gun)

by LacePendragon



Series: Wishbone Week 2021 [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Clover Ebi Lives, Established Relationship, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Binary Vine Zeki, Volume 7 Canon Divergence, Volume 8 Canon Divergence, What-If, Wishbone Week, grey morality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29479497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacePendragon/pseuds/LacePendragon
Summary: In a circle around Clover Ebi's hospital bed, with their fearless leader in a coma he may never awaken from, the Ace Operatives of Atlas decide not only their fates, but the fates of everyone they protect.In war, there is no such thing as a winner. Only a side that loses less.
Relationships: Marrow Amin/Clover Ebi
Series: Wishbone Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165307
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	each side is a loser (so who cares who fired the gun)

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 of Wishbone Week. Got it out with two hours to spare. It's short, and it's angsty, but I hope you enjoy it. I'm really curious about this as a what-if universe, but this is about as much as I've thought about it. It's not the first time I've circled this idea, though. Anyway, cheers. Comments are loved and enjoyed.
> 
> Quick note if you don't know - I actually really like volume 8 and James Ironwood (he's one of my faves) as a whole. I find him and the volume fascinating, nuanced, and grey as all get out. Comments bashing either will be deleted without reply. This fic is about a what-if, not about whether I think it would be better than the show or not.

_And as I lay me down to sleep,  
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,  
And if I should die before I wake,  
I pray the Lord my soul to take._

Clover was dying.

The words echoed through Marrow’s mind with every step he and the (remaining) Ace-Ops took. Harriet led, the crackle of electricity burning the scent of ozone into his nose. If she spoke, if any of them spoke, he didn’t hear them. His ears rang too loudly. The screaming of a concussion grenade exploded next to his ear.

Metaphorical.

Grimm didn’t have concussion grenades.

Clover was dying.

Four sets of feet pounded on tile floors. Four bodies burst into the med bay. General Ironwood was in the room to the right. Flash of black metal where there should have been flesh. Marrow stumbled. He’d lost an arm? No, focus.

Clover was dying.

To the left, the room with Clover. They all thundered in, momentum dying as they stumbled at the sight.

Four sets of feet, four sluggish bodies. They circled the hospital bed. The ringing in Marrow’s ears faded, letting in the constant beeps of machines he couldn’t hope to understand. Oxygen mask. Heart monitor. IVs. The slow rise and fall of a chest slathered and wrapped. Visible veins that spread out from his chest, creeping toward his throat and limbs like the inky black of the Grimm.

Red and blue and purple and pale. The colours of a person, a body, not a Grimm.

“What _happened_?” breathed Elm. “Clover’s untouchable.”

“I…” Harriet shook her head. “I can only think of one weapon that could put a hole in him like this.” Her gaze met Marrow’s.

Marrow spoke, even though he couldn’t believe it. “Harbinger.”

“You think _Qrow_ did this?” asked Elm. She growled, punching one fist into an open palm. “I’ll _kill_ him.”

“Don’t,” said Marrow. He dropped, heavily, into the chair next to Clover’s bed. His heartbeat was steady. His blood pressure was too low. Multiple blood bags hung around him, replenishing what he’d lost. Bruises beneath his eyes made him look like a raccoon. His lips were tinted blue, like he’d recently been brought back from the dead.

Maybe he had.

Marrow rested his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands. “Just don’t.” Qrow wouldn’t do this. Qrow and Clover were buddies. Pals. Close enough that Marrow had been jealous more than once. Worried more than once. Fearful, more than once. Clover had spent a handful of nights reassuring him that he and Qrow were friends and nothing else, that he loved Marrow and no one else.

Marrow dropped his hands and stared at Clover. The fingers of his right hand stroked against the ring on his left. He still wasn’t used to wearing it. He’d only put it on a week ago, after all. They hadn’t even picked out a matching one for Clover, yet.

If he closed his eyes, Marrow could still hear himself laughing, telling Clover that people didn’t have matching engagement rings. Clover had said he wanted everyone to know, even if it took a while for them to get married.

Even if they had to wait for the law to change for years and years.

General Ironwood had promised to do his best to change it. Not just for them, but for everyone like them.

“Marrow—” started Harriet.

Marrow shook his head. “Qrow wouldn’t do this.” Ruby’s words echoed in his head, telling him how long it had been since Qrow had had a friend he wasn’t constantly scared of losing. Wasn’t constantly scared of hurting. She’d been happy. She’d had tears in her eyes as she spoke. “He wouldn’t do this.”

“Then who did?” asked Harriet, folding her arms. “Qrow’s sword isn’t exactly easy to use. That thing weighs a ton, not to mention it’s not weighted like a sword.”

“They were going after Tyrian Callows,” said Vine, speaking for the first time since they’d come into the room. All heads turned toward them. “His file said he was well-versed in improvised weaponry. Would that not give him an advantage if he chose to steal the sword?”

“But why would he?” asked Harriet, voice raising above the din of the machinery. “Why not kill Clover with his own shit? Why not poison him? Why—?”

“To divide us,” said Marrow, rubbing his thumb over his engagement ring. “Isn’t that what the kids said? That Salem was trying to divide us?” He stared at the slow and shallow rise and fall of Clover’s chest. Could he breathe without the mask? How much of his lungs were even left? How much of his ribcage was left? Marrow swallowed. He reached out, his left hand stretching toward Clover’s, and took Clover’s hand in his.

He wished Clover had a ring. He wished there was proof of what they were to each other, outside of teammates.

“What divides us better, killing him outright, or making it look like Qrow did it?” asked Marrow.

Harriet swallowed visibly. “There’s no way _everyone_ believes that, right?”

“We did,” said Marrow. “And we knew him.” Marrow cast a glance to his left, out the window that looked into the room, and across the hall and through the window into the room General Ironwood stood in. Winter was behind him, reclined in a hospital bed while various medical officers attended to her. But Marrow’s focus was on the General. He stared, eyes and expression equally dark, into their room. “I think the General does too.”

“The General has lost his fucking mind,” muttered Elm. “He’s missing an arm, he had us arrest the kids, and now this?” She shook her head. Her voice was too low to travel, and she had her back to the window, preventing lip reading. “I get that he has a lot of hard decisions to make…”

“But it doesn’t make the destruction on the small scale easier to handle,” muttered Marrow. He bowed his head. “He abandoned my home, my _people_.”

“He abandoned a lot of things,” said Elm.

“He’s trying to save as many people as he can,” said Harriet. “Even if I don’t agree, personally, I can respect that, professionally.” She folded her arms across her chest, but it looked closer to hugging herself. “I understand what he’s doing. I agree with it, in terms of saving people. But that doesn’t make it easier to leave everyone else behind.”

“Better to save as many as we _know_ we can, rather than lose everyone trying to save more,” said Vine.

Marrow sighed. “Think I get why the kids disagree with us, now.”

“They’re naïve,” said Harriet, but her voice was tight, like it got when she was lying to herself. “We can’t save everyone. We have to cut our losses, hunker down, and do everything we can to save those we can.”

“Doesn’t make it easier,” said Elm.

“No,” said Harriet.

“It doesn’t,” agreed Marrow.

They all fell silent. The beeps of Clover’s heartbeat marked the passing seconds.

“So, what’s the plan?” Elm’s voice. Marrow looked up to see what Harriet would say, only to find them all looking at him.

“What… why is everyone looking at me?” he asked, staring at the trio.

Harriet scoffed. “You gave us a conscience, pretty boy. Pay the price and make the hard decisions.” She levelled him with a hard look, her pink eyes as tired and bleak as he’d ever seen them. “What do we do now?”

Marrow hesitated. He looked to Clover, who had almost died following orders without question. He looked at the Ace-Ops, who had all balked when the general ordered them to attack Team RWBY, but had done it anyway.

He looked at his own hands, scarred with the hard things he’d had to do, not just as a Specialist, but as a faunus, as a person who grew up in poverty, as an orphan of Atlas.

He squeezed Clover’s hand in both of his own and lifted it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the knuckles of his left hand. Right where his engagement ring would be, if he had one.

"I'll come back for you,” he whispered. Then, standing, he said to the others, “We head to the holding cells. We break Team RWBY out. And then?” He took a deep breath and squared himself. “We try to save everyone. Not just Atlas, but Mantle too.”

“And if we fail?” asked Harriet, cocking an eyebrow.

“Then at least we tried,” said Marrow. He cast a look through the window. General Ironwood had his back to them, talking on his Scroll. Winter met his gaze. She nodded, slow and solemn. She couldn’t hear them, but he knew she knew what they were doing. “Gods help us, at least we tried.”

Elm clapped him on the shoulder.

“We never needed the gods before,” said Vine. “And we certainly don’t need them now.”

Harriet punched a fist into her open palm. “Let’s go commit treason.”

Together, they left the med bay, and with one last glance back to Clover, Marrow left his life as a law-abiding citizen, and Ace-Op, behind.

He’d come back for Clover.

He swore it.

None of them were dying today.

**Author's Note:**

> Consider leaving a comment, even just a <3, they always make my day. <3


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